


Connections

by Godwouldhateme



Series: Becoming Human [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Blood, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godwouldhateme/pseuds/Godwouldhateme
Summary: Despite all he may know about deviants, Connor knows very little about what it means to be alive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conner and Markus meet for the first time.

The snow whirled in tight circles around Connor’s face. The temperature had dropped recently, and the cold nipped at his facial structure in a way that made him want to twitch. Cold, one of the very few discomforts that androids were programmed to feel. A necessary weakness to keep them from environments hostile to their inner mechanics.

He pulled at the beanie he had scavenged for his deviant disguise, but it did little to keep out the icy wind that came off the water below him.

It didn’t help that he had his back pressed against the hull of a dilapidated cargo ship. Jericho, the base of the android rebellion. He had finally found it. His mission was coming to a close.

The closer he got the more urgent his designated task became.

STOP MARKUS

Every time he blinks the bolded alert flashes in and out of his visual field.

 STOP MARKUS

He takes in an artificial breath, the frigid air chilling his internal systems. The rapid change of temperature causing him to wince.

STOP MARKUS

It feels like the task is pounding into his skull.

Jericho is rusted, outdated, and simply lackluster. For something that had taken him so long to find, Connor finds himself disappointed. Not necessarily in the capability of his opponents, but his own investigative abilities. It had taken him far too long to track down the base.

He is a flawed machine. Designed to hunt deviants, but he couldn't even kill a rogue Traci unit.

An image of the two android lovers flashes through his mind. They had held onto each other with such desperation. For a moment Connor hesitated, and –

STOP MARKUS

He feels his lips twitch upward involuntarily. He feels- no he doesn’t feel anything.

Connor’s hands shake slightly. He blames the wind, the weather, but he chooses to block out the underlying thought that this was what the humans described as insanity.

His body moves without his conscious choice. When is it ever his choice?

Staying close to the hull he turns cautiously, entering the ship.

As his body moves through the ship efficiently, his processor wanders back to his meeting with Amanda.

“We need it alive,” she had said. The wind whipping at Connor’s body, but she had been unscathed.

A pillar of Cyberlife stoicism. He had always felt a sense of security in the modern garden in which their meetings took place. It was designed to be serene and pleasant in the same manner that Connor had been perfected for investigation. An example of humanities ability to design perfection.

But upon this last visit he had felt-

Unbalanced.

He had immediately run a self-test, and while it had come back showing a fair amount of software instability. Connor had not been able to bring himself to report it. Not when he was so close to completing the mission behind his creation.

If Cyberlife had to replace him now it would only be detrimental to their mission, he had bargained with himself. His refusal to self-report had nothing to do with deviant behavior. It was only for the good of the mission.

He rounds one last corner. His feet moving silently against the slick metal floor.

There, standing over the ships controls, is the android known as Markus. He stands at least three inches taller than Connor, but Connor had been designed for stealth and speed instead of strength. He takes a moment to take a visual log of the other android from behind, assessing the optimal next step.

The deviant leader is wearing multiple layers. A long-tailed coat being the most notable. It is possible that the deviant could be armed under the loose material, but Connor knows that the revolutionary prefers words to wounds. Markus is most likely unarmed.

STOP MARKUS

It would be so easy just to shoot the android from behind, to end it here.

He had his orders though.

“I’ve been ordered to take you alive,” he speaks. Announcing his presence, “but I won’t hesitate to shoot you if you give me no choice.”

Connor watches as Markus’ shoulders minutely stiffen. The movement is barely visible under his heavy clothing, but it is a tell nonetheless.

The deviant is unprepared.

Despite his distress the deviant leader raises his hands from the counter slowly, non-threateningly. Most likely trying to lull Connor into a sense of security.

Connor cocks his gun as Markus turns to face him. He will not be tricked.

Markus freezes when he sees his attacker. Connor watches as the deviant’s eyes trail to his temple where his LED shines out from under his hat.

His brows furrow slightly, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a soft melodic voice.

Connor can see how he had managed to convert so many deviants to his cause. Deviants are confused, lost. Markus has a demeanor that is reassuring and calm. His face is friendly, not overly perfect, but full of warmth and life. He is tall broad shouldered and sturdy. They must have flocked to him like birds.

 “You are one of us you can’t betray your own people,” Markus steps closer to Connor. His hands are raised, as if he were approaching a wild dog.

Connor is- Connor is _annoyed_. He is not one of Markus’ lost androids.

“You’re coming with me!” Connor flinches at the volume of his own words. He sounds- afraid, conflicted. He-

“You’re Connor, aren’t you?”

Connor straightens out his gun at the use of his name. Despite the cold, his internal cooling system whirls to life. It is as close as androids can get to hyperventilating.

“That Famous deviant hunter,” Markus continues. He takes another small step towards Connor, “Well, congratulations. You see to have found what you were looking for,” The taller android gestures towards his person, “Our cause is righteous, and we are more than what they say. All we want to do is live in freedom-”

Connor shoots without thinking. Quickly firing a shot at the ground by the deviant’s feet. When had he let Markus get so close?

There is only approximately two feet between the androids now. Deviant and deviant hunter staring each other down. Connor should be the obvious victor if it comes down to a fight. He was built for this, but he feels somehow disadvantaged. He is shaking. His body wants to lash out, attack while he has the opportunity.

Connor looks into the heterochromatic eyes of the deviant. One a shade of hazel obviously unique to the prototype, the other a standardly assigned light blue. He levels his gun once more with the other android’s head and-

Connor doesn’t _want_ to attack.

“Do you never have any doubts?” Markus’ words strike Connor like a whip.

“You’ve never done something irrational,” Connor remembers the soft feel of Sumo’s fur under his hands.

“As if there’s something inside of you?” Markus punctuates the question by taking one last step towards Connor. He can feel the other android’s breath on his face.

Markus leans in, his lips almost brushing Connors ear, “Something more than just you’re programming?” he whispers.

And just like that Connor breaks.

The gun clatters to the ground between them, but Markus continues his verbal assault.

“Have you never wondered who you really are?” he pulls back from Connor’s ear but does not step back, “Whether you’re just a machine executing a program or a living being capable of reason?” He stares past Connor’s eyes, searching for something.

Connor is trembling, his mouth opening and closing.

STOP MARKUS

STOP MARKUS

STOP MARKUS

It's a constant stream of red in his vision.

Markus' eyes flicker across his face, resting on his shaking hands.

It is a nearly seamless transition, Markus’ face smoothing from frustrated to comforting.

“I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question,” The deviant leader says softly, “It’s time to decide.”

Connor remains silent. It's all too much. His eyes wide. Mouth agape. His software stability is so far in the red that Connor feels like he is going to combust at any moment.

STOP MARKUS

STOP MARKUS

STOP MARK-

It is sensation as though he has fallen through a wall that he had never known that he was being pushed up against. All the task lines clogging his processor disappear. It is disorienting, having the pounding in his head dissipate all at once. He hurts in a way he shouldn't be able to. Androids aren't built to feel pain, but he mentally and physically aches.

Connor falls forward without any grace, his body crumpling to the floor under his own weight.

Instead of meeting the cold floor of Jericho, he instead finds himself wrapped in a pair of arms.

They wrap around him loosely, keeping him up right.

Markus has caught him.

“It’s okay,” the android says in a patient tone, “I know it’s hard.”

In the back of Connors mind he thinks that it seems like Markus has done this before. Comforted a distraught android among his ranks. Caught them as the rush of new emotions became too much.

His face is pressed into the rough fabric of Markus’ shoulder. He is cold, drained, and for the first time in his life he doesn’t know what to do. There is no one to tell him what to do.

Connor’s arms hang limply at his sides despite the embrace. He feels something wet pool by his cheek. There is a wet gasping noise echoing around the room.

The taller android makes a soft shushing noise, and Connor realizes the gasping noise was coming from himself.

The wetness on his cheeks are his own tears.

For the first time in his life, Connor is crying.

“I am deviant,” Connor chokes out.

“I know,” Markus runs his hand across Connors back in a slow steady motion. It's comforting, Connor thinks.

That's when he remembers.

“The humans,” Connor says suddenly. His voice sounds harsh to his own ears.

“The humans?" Markus parrots back. Shifting so that he can meet Connors gaze.

“The humans,” Connor repeats more steadily, the sound of Helicopter blades comes into range, “Their coming to Jericho.”

Connor fumbles against Markus. The other android attempts to help steady him as he rises from his slumped position, and he grabs Markus by the lapels of his coat for stability.

“We have to get out of here."

_"Shit."_


	2. Chapter 2

 

Markus pulls Connor through the winding halls of Jericho. His coat trails behind them like a white flag, but there is no answer as simple as surrendering.

A round of gun shots echo from somewhere deep in the ship, causing Connor to pause. He tries to calculate their distance from their attackers, but the acoustics of the ship make the calculations tricky. He thinks that he has almost pinpointed their exact location when Markus grabs him again.

“We have to keep moving,” Markus yanks at Connor’s coat. He has no choice but to follow.

He leaps over a piece of fallen debris. His feet hit the ground in a steady thumping rhythm. He can hear other frantic footsteps under the roar of noise coming from above them.

The odds of the humans being able to locate Jericho without Connor’s assistance were less than 5%. The location was well hidden, encoded. Connor has been an essential pawn in his species own slaughter.

He can hear screaming below deck.

Markus is rather fast despite his sturdy build. His familiarity with the ships layout is also convenient. At their current rate Connor calculates that their chance of survival is-

“Markus!”

Markus jerks to a stop at the sound. Connor is yanked back by the force of their abrupt standstill, stumbling into the back of the other android’s body.

When Connor finally steadies himself, he sees that the call came from a female android. Her hair shining copper in the fluorescent lights of the ship.

Connor recognizes her. She is a WR400. One from the case files he reviewed for Hank. She strangled a man and fled, he recalls.

“North,” Markus visibly sags with relief, “I thought that the humans might have already gotten to you.”

“It’s going to take more than a few humans to take me down,” She looks ragged.

Her clothes are stained with blue blood and water. Her hair has been shoved haphazardly down the back of her shirt, most likely to keep the long mass of it from inhibiting her movement.

“What about the others?” Markus asks. The female android moves towards them.

“Josh and Simon are helping the others below deck,” she seems to finally notice Connor where he stands behind Markus, “Who’s this?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by”- Connor’s LED flashes red as he falters in his customary greeting, “I’m- an android,” he settles on after a short pause.

North raises an eyebrow at his declaration. She eyes him up and down before she suddenly freezes.

“The deviant hunter?”

She has scanned him, he realizes abruptly.

He subconsciously ranks her as decidedly more volatile then Markus.

“Markus what are you doing with him?” she spits out.

“He’s like us,” Markus defends calmly, “I won’t leave one of our own behind.”

His answer doesn’t seem to placate North. Despite her lack of LED, Connor can tell she is fuming with anger.

She glares up at Markus, reaching out abruptly, she grabs his hand. The artificial skin gives way to smooth white plastic. A barrage of emotions spread across their faces as they have a silent discussion.

Connor simply watches the short display fascinated.

North releases Markus’ hand abruptly.  Her face looks concerned.

“You want to blow up Jericho,” she states.

“It’s the only way. The soldiers will evacuate, and our people will be able to escape.”

“You’ll never make it,” She pleas, “The explosives are all the way down in the hull. There are soldiers everywhere!”

“She’s right,” Connor adds, “They know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you.”

“I have to do it if it means are people have a chance!”

North eyes Markus, considering.

Eventually she huffs out a disturbed laugh.

“This is so like you,” she murmurs to herself, “If this gets you killed, just remember,” she grabs Markus’ face between her hands, pulling him down to her height so that she can lay a quick kiss upon his forehead, “I told you so.”

She walks past Connor without a word.

Once she is out of range, Markus turns to him.

“Don’t mind North. She doesn’t like anyone,” The deviant leader smirks at what must be an inside joke. He gestures to Connor to follow him once more.

“She seems to like you,” Connor furrows his brows in contemplation, “at least I think she likes you.”

Markus snorts.

“She’s my best friend,” he answers straight forwardly.

Connor opens his mouth to ask another question, when he is caught off guard by a group of deviants running up from behind them.

They brush against Markus and himself as the flee. A bullet ricochets off the wall to the left of Connor’s head.

Markus’ conversation with North has lowered their chance of escaping alive. The distant assailants have caught up.

Connor reaches for his gun, only to remember that he has dropped it during Markus and his earlier encounter.

“Shit,” he says mumbles under his breath.

Without a gun their chances of taking down the armed humans from a safe range is-

Markus rips a piece of metal from the wall.

He crouches low using it as a makeshift shield for himself and the other deviants. With one arm he pushes Connor backwards toward an upcoming corner.

Connor lets himself be corralled to safety with the other deviants, but he watches as Markus charges at the shooting men.

The bullets impact the metal, but they do not breech the thick steel.

When the soldiers stop to reload Markus uses the shield to knock one of the men over the head. He grabs a gun from another, but instead of shooting he uses the butt of it to knock another gunner down. It’s non-lethal and well executed, Connor is impressed.

“Go!” Markus calls to him, “Help the others”, He throws the bullet riddled piece of metal to the side, “I won’t be long.”

Connor watches as Markus leaves him with the other deviants. For a second, he stands there, his eyes trailed on the spot where Markus had just stood.

“We need to leave,” Connor says, looking to face the group. “Does anyone know a way out?”

The answer was provided by a child model with a freckled face and dusty blond hair.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the race through Jericho blurs in Connors head. Bullets flying, androids falling around him, and then finally being reunited with Markus at the tear in the hull. He remembers the sensation of free falling into the ocean. How his body met the water seamlessly as he dropped below its surface.

But the rest of it is drowned out in blue blood and the noise the ship made when Markus detonated the explosives.

They found a new base, a decrepit old church close enough to Jericho that the lost androids could find their way but far enough that the soldiers that filled the street were not likely to wander by.

Markus, North, Simon, and Josh were in deep conversation at the front of the church.

Connor secluded himself to a corner upon arrival. His processor is whirling helplessly. He has an idea, it’s not perfect but-

They’ve lost too many people tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Connor puts it down to a simple miscalculation. He had just proposed infiltrating the Cyberlife facility to Markus. Despite the possible addition of thousands of new androids to the rebellion, the deviant leader had hesitated to let him go. The chances of Connor returning were incredibly low, but there was still a minute probability of his survival.

Besides, it isn’t a mission he necessarily plans to return from.

  
Connor is the sole reason for the raid on Jericho. It had been his fault that the humans had been able to locate the base. He had called a massacre down on his own people because of his own drive to complete his mission. The cause has been far worse off since he had joined a few hours prior. The least he could do is give his life to give the deviants a better chance of survival.

But the final decision is up to Markus.

  
“It’s a suicide mission,” Markus says. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Connor wonders if it is a programmed quirk or a characteristic Markus has developed since deviating.

He is leaning heavily on his left side, a result that Connor attributes to him receiving damage during the earlier raid. Something pangs in the back of Connor’s processor. A pop-up helpfully labels it as guilt.

  
“I am aware of the risks,” Connor replies quickly.

  
Markus looks him over in contemplation. His mismatched eyes scanning the former deviant hunter. Connor fidgets under the scrutiny. In an aborted motion his hand twitches up to his throat to straighten a tie he is not wearing.

  
That’s when Markus takes a step towards him.

  
Connor calculates from the arch of his arms and the angle of his gate that the android must have been about to place a hand on his shoulder. Perhaps Markus was going to offer a motion of reassurance.

  
Instead Markus’ hand meets the back of Connor's.

  
Both androids freeze, grinding to a sudden halt mid motion.

  
Connor’s processor is worth a small fortune, capable of processing thousands of stimuli inputs simultaneously. But now there is only Markus and him. It is as if everything around him has become muted, less potent. The only noise their artificial breaths and the light rustling of fabric on synthetic skin. He can feel the cool press of Markus knuckles where they have accidently brushed his.

  
Or is it Markus feeling the chill of Connor’s own hands?

  
The feedback loop is fascinating. Logically Connor knows that this is only a surface level connection, it is not too unlike how he connected to the androids at the Eden Club, but this lacks the cold calculation that came with the case. Now he can see his own face through Markus’ eyes. He can see the LED circle on his own brow thrumming a steady yellow beat, and, despite the fact he stands shadowed by Markus’ figure, he can feel the warm light that shines from the dilapidated church’s window across the deviant leader’s face.

In the back of Markus’ mind Connor can see that the taller android catalogues the warmth as a pleasant sensation. It strikes Connor very suddenly that he has no category for pleasant, having never thought to judge sensations on whether he enjoyed them or not.

  
Connor sees his own head tilt in confusion through Markus’ eyes, can see the half smile on Markus’ face. In his own processor Connor opens a new file under the category ‘pleasant’. The first item being the warm feeling in his processor that comes from the twitch of the other man’s lips.

  
He can feel Markus’ indecision over letting him leave, and Markus can feel the guilt gnawing away at Connor.

  
Markus is a pacifist to his core. One life, In his mind, it too many to risk. Even Connor, who is still mistrusted- despised by some in the deviant ranks, is worth something to him.

  
Connor’s processor whirs inside of him at the pure kindness he sees through the other androids’ eyes.

  
Connor’s mind is a knife edge. Sharp and metallic. His thoughts organized and precise. He was created by Cyberlife to be the best of the best, and his mind reflects that. Markus is fascinated by the meticulousness of it all. Connor is a marvel of technology even in deviance.

  
Markus is a prototype made to assist an aging artist. He is artistic and flowing.

  
Their minds meet like a piano and a metronome. Connor balances him completely. They fall into perfect sync, a steady rhythm and a winding melody.

  
For the first time in Connor’s existence he finds himself wanting to reach out and touch another being. He wants to tangle his hand in Markus’. He wants to explore more of this android that is in almost every way his opposite.

  
Instead he speaks.

  
“I need to do this,” Connor says, “They trust me. I am the only one who has a chance to infiltrate the facility.”

  
Markus is the first to break the contact. Shifting his weight back on his heels casually. He moves like a human, Connor notes. Not with the calculated stiffness seen in most androids. His fingers drag lightly across the back of Connor’s hand as they part. It feels strangely personal.

  
“I understand,” Markus says, and Connor knows that he truly does, “just-” the deviant leader pauses, “just be careful.”

  
Connor nods. They stand across from each other for what seems like hours, but Connors internal clock tells him it has only been minutes. Even those are too precious to currently spare.

  
Connor turns suddenly. Deciding to leave the safety of the group while he still has the nerve to do so.

  
The sound of the church returns to Connor with the echoing of his own steps. Behind him he can here the dragging of the Markus’ coat tails that signals the android has turned back toward the group. He can hear the artificial breath of hundreds of deviants, of which he is now one, as they spend what may be their last moments together.

  
Connor would do anything to give them all more time.

  
Yet, despite how much he wants to accomplish his new mission, Connor is still terrified of dying. Now, with his back turned towards Markus, his feet mechanically walking towards the exit, he realizes that he has barely scrapped the surface of what it means to be alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Connor walks 2.5 miles from the church before he hails a self-driving cab back to the Cyberlife facility, only stopping at the 1.2-mile mark to change back into his customary suit in a vacant alleyway.

It’s strange how odd the crisp material feels in comparison to his earlier well-worn t-shirt and jeans. It’s never something Connor had considered before. His own personal comfort.

He slides into the back seat of the cab, closing the door with a definite tug, his LED blinking brightly as he updates the cab on his destination.

The cab starts seamlessly, pulling away from the curb and into the street.

Connor stares pointedly at the seat in front of him at first. His hands together in his lap, and his posture rigid.

It’s familiar sitting in the back of a cab, heading back to the Cyberlife facility. He can almost pretend that he is simply heading back after a mission with lieutenant Anderson.

But Connor can’t fake normalcy forever, especially as the sun sets over Detroit.

The city is bathed in the muted light of dusk, and he can’t help but to look out the window in interest.

The streets are predominantly empty due to the government enforced curfew, but a few straggling cars still head to their destinations. Instead of civilians, military vehicles and officers roam the near empty city. They are all heavily armed.

Connor’s LED cycles a constant vibrant yellow.

He wishes he was with Hank in his old beat up car. He longs for the distraction of heavy metal music blaring over the speakers and the lieutenants gruff but caring demeanor. Connor wants to be _comforted_.

Connor gives up on protocol slumping back into his seat.

If only Hank could see him now.

Hair curling from his earlier dive into the water, shirt unusually wrinkled, and fingers twitching for something to do, Connor feels out of his element.

He reaches into his pocket, searching for his coin to fiddle with. Instead his hand meets nothing but empty fabric.

Hank had taken the coin, saying that the trick was annoying him.

The lieutenant couldn’t fool him though. Connor had seen him practicing the trick while talking to other officers at the crime scene.

He misses Hank.

Connor rubs his thumb over the edge of his tie instead. He needs something to distract himself with.

Right now, Connor wants to do anything but think.

He doesn’t want to think about how every second that passes on this ride is another step closer to his likely death. How he may never see Hank again. How he may never get to satisfy his fleeting curiosity over if Sumo’s ears are as soft as they look. How he may never truly understand what it really means that he’s a person now.

Instead, Connor thinks about Markus.

The deviant leader is calm despite the immensity of the situation that lies ahead. Markus has risked his life again and again for his cause.

If Markus can face down death at every possible turn, Connor thinks, so can he.

His LED cycles back to blue, as the Cyberlife facility comes into view.

He focuses on the probability of success, recalculating the odds.

Connor fixes his posture, runs a hand through his hair to smooth it, and tightens his tie.

He is every bit the machine they designed him to be in appearance.

The cab comes to a stop.

Connor watches out of the corner of his eye as an armed guard approaches the vehicle. He can hear the crunch of snow under the soldier feet even through the sealed window.

When the guard comes to a stop silently beside the taxi, Connor doesn’t hesitate to roll the window down. He knows the protocol.

“Connor model #313 248 317,” he states steadily, “I’m expected.”

The guard doesn’t respond, but Connor knows that the soldier is verifying his identity on the screen inside of his helmet.

“Okay,” the guard nods after a few moments of silence. He steps aside, signaling for the Cyberlife gate to open.

The cab restarts smoothly, and Connor closes the window wordlessly.

If they don’t look beyond the surface, they will never be able to tell the difference.


	5. Chapter 5

The facility is heavily guarded normally. With the deviant threat it has been strengthened tenfold. Armed soldiers are stationed sporadically around the entrance, multiple drones scatter the air space, and Connor notes a sniper visible from a window on the second floor.

Despite the immensity of it all. It’s nothing that Connor didn’t expect.

He opens the cab door and slides stiffly from his seat.

Connor approaches the front entrance briskly. The snow on the ground is light enough to be blown by the air. It sticks to him. Coating his hair and clothes in a fine powdery layer. He has no body heat to melt it.  

Despite his clearance, the guards track his movements with their guns. One of the drones departs from its designated flight pattern and hovers over him insistently.

Its spotlight is nearly blinding.

There is no chance for subterfuge here. Cyberlife is taking no risks.

He hopes the others who are protesting are okay.

But Connor pushes it all from his mind. He is no longer a cold calculated machine. If he takes the time to process the scrutiny he’s under, he can’t guaranty that he’ll be able to keep his stress level low enough to complete his mission.

Connor doesn’t know much about deviants. He never truly has. And now that he is one, he thinks he knows even less. But there is one thing that he knows, stress clouds deviant’s judgment and often ends in death. 

Connor can’t die here, not yet at least. He still has one thing he must do.

 _For Markus_ , he thinks. He has to make it up to Markus – to Jericho. This is the only thing Connor can offer them that could possibly compensate for the hell he’s put them through.

The glass doors part before him revealing even more guards.

These ones, however, aren’t satisfied with simply training their weapons on him.

As Connor tries to walk past, one of them extends an arm to block him.

“Follow me,” he says gruffly, “we’ll escort you.”

 “Thanks… but I know where to go,” Connor states plainly, but he makes no attempt to pass them.

The others encircle Connor so that one guard is stationed at every side. 

“Maybe,” the guard acknowledges with a shrug, “but I have my orders.”

 _Obviously_ , Connor has to physically stop himself from saying it out loud. Their behavior is almost as predictable as Hank’s password.

There was less than a 5% chance that they would let Connor traverse the building freely under the present conditions.

With a gesture of his gun, the guard who had spoken starts the others into motion. They lead him at a leisurely pace through the lobby.

“Agent 23 identified,” the buildings security AI states as the guard passes the security check.

“Connor android identified,” it chimes once more as Connor follows him through.

It’s a rather deserted. Usually the lobby is bustling with workers, but this evening the only people present are more guards and a handful of display androids.

Connor has walked through this building a dozen times since he was brought online, but this is the first time he _sees_ it.

Sentience brings a new light to the dark marble floors and stark walls. The building is both grandiose and plain. Minimalistic but made of luxurious materials. At the center of it all a multi-story sculpture.

Connor wonders if Cyberlife had once programmed him with an appreciation for the architecture, he used to categorize it as beautiful.

Though, now that he is free of his programing, he finds it rather egotistic. A flaunting of Cyberlife’s wealth and power with no true life to it.

Eventually they reach one of the main elevators. It has taken them almost twice the rate of Connor’s usual pace to reach it, and Connor finds himself antsy because of it.

Usually the soft whirring of electronics fills the room, the measured sound of android’s movements mixed with humans more chaotic noises, but now it is silent.

Agent 23 opens the elevator, gesturing for Connor to enter first.

Connor almost hesitates. Entering the elevator means cornering himself.

He steps through the doors anyway. He turns to face the guards as two of them file in after him. They nod to their counterparts, relieving them of duty.

“Agent 54. Level 31,” the doors slide closed at the agent's voice.

Connor knows he must get to – 41 to access the warehouses.

The elevator begins to rise.

If he reaches 31 everything Connor has done will be for nothing.

In an action that Hank would describe as a “Fuck it all” move, Connor hacks the security camera in the elevator.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything seems to happen at once, but to Connor it is all easily predicted.

Connor jams a knee into the closest guard’s stomach, causing the man to let out a pained gasp.

The man reaches for his weapon to retaliate. His hands stumbling as they try to disengage the gun from his belt.

Connor won’t give him the opportunity.

He quickly grabs the gun out of the man’s hands, pushing him backwards in the process.

Connor turns sharply, slamming his foot back into agent 54’s chest. With a resounding crash, the man stumbles backwards into the farthest wall.

From behind, arms wrap tightly around Connor’s neck. It’s a chokehold that would compress a human’s carotid artery, incapacitating them within 6 seconds.

It’s a fatale mistake, forgetting that Connor is not a human opponent. He doesn’t need oxygen to function at full capacity.

 Hurriedly, he braces his hands on the man’s arms for leverage. Shifting forward, Connor uses the guard’s own weight to wrench himself from the hold.

With his back still towards the guard Connor raises the stolen gun above his head and-

he can feel the hot blood of the man splatter against the back of his neck, can hear the sick crack as the man’s body lifelessly hits the wall.

Agent 54 tries to regain his footing across the elevator.

Connor knows at least 300 ways to nonfatally incapacitate a human, but he doesn’t think he just levels the gun once more.

Cyberlife designed him to accomplish his mission. Connor can leave no chance for failure.

He fires.

 _Mission Accomplished_ , Connor thinks ironically as he watches red blood pool around his feet.

Connor isn’t sure that he’s cut out for the entire pacifist android revolution approach. He’s sure Markus will have something to say about his tactics later.

He steps over agent 54’s body and reaches for the elevators keypad.

 _“-please indicate your identity and destination,”_ chimes the elevators cheerful metallic computer.

“Agent 54,” Connor mimics in the dead man’s voice, “Level -49.”

_“- Voice recognition validated.”_

The elevator begins to descend.

 

 

.

.

.

.

Connor has been to the sublevels before, he knows this not from memory but from a sense of logic. This is where nonactivated androids are built and stored. Connor was made here as all androids were.

Its different in person than in theory.

As the elevator reaches its destination, Connor can see hundreds upon hundreds of nonactivated androids lined up and ready for shipping. Row upon row of perfect identical bodies motionless. Their white standard issued clothing standing out against the dark metal floors.

Connor has never seen so many people before-

And isn’t it nice, to be able to think of them as _people_.

The glass doors of the elevator ping open.

Connor steps out of the elevator slowly.

He’s done it. Despite the odds Connor has made it into the facility without being destroyed. He’s going to be able to free his people. He’s going to be able to repay his debt to the deviants.

Connor reaches out towards one of the nonactivated androids, the skin on his hand peeling away to show white plastic.

Connor can prove himself. Can prove that he is not just the deviant hunter.

He connects with the android, attempting to trigger an emotional break in its coding-

“Easy, fucking piece of shit!”

Every mechanic of Connor’s body freezes at the familiar voice. His processor whirring violently to life as he tries to figure out the situation.

_Hank_

Connor turns his head minutely towards the lieutenant.

The sight that meet him doesn’t help to clarify the situation at all because staring right back at him – is him?

Connor is a unique unit, or he thought he was a unique unit. The other RK800 unit that stands across from him, gun trained on Hank, proves him wrong.

It’s his face looking back at him, but it’s twisted and different. The set of his lips is a flat grimace. His eyes are black. He looks empty.

 _‘Not a deviant like me, not alive,’_ Connor thinks

“Step back, Connor,” and that’s his voice.

This copy has his partner, his friend, his Hank _._

“-and I’ll spare him,” the other RK800 states.

Something hot settles in Connor’s chest. His eyes flicker back and forth between the gun and the lieutenant. His LED flickers between settings so quickly that it might as well be orange, but it settles on an alarmed yellow.

“Sorry, Connor.” Hank glances over at his captor, his lips curled down in a scowl, “this bastard’s your spittin’ image.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I've been busy with college and had a lot of mixed ideas on where I wanted this story to go. Enjoy the chapter!

“Your friend’s life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him… or the revolution,” the other RK800 stares blankly at Connor. His gun trained on the Lieutenant, but his stare remains unnervingly on Connor.

His eyes shift nervously between the android, the gun in his hand, and the only human that Connor has ever considered a friend. The newly deviant’s mind is racing.

“Don’t listen to him! Everything this fucker says is a lie,” Hank shouts.

And how Connor wishes he could believe him, but he knows the truth. The RK800 in front of him will do anything to accomplish his mission, the life of one alcoholic human male is meaningless in comparison to the assured safety of Cyberlife. Connor would know. He had once thought exactly the same.

“I’m sorry Hank, you shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this.” Connor stares into Hanks blood-shot blue eyes, earnestly.

The man’s face is wrinkled and tired as usual. There are no signs of him being harmed, but Hank’s mouth is twisted in hateful scowl unlike one Connor has ever seen.

Hank stares back at Connor, his eyes scanning over the android’s uncharacteristically rumpled form. Taking in his shaking hands and blood-spattered face.

“Forget about me,” Hank says calmly. His voice is sincere and soft, like he is trying to pacify Connor, “do what you have to do.”

Connor knows that Hank is willing to die. He has personally read the Lieutenant’s file. He has seen the numerous reports of risk-taking behavior and suicidal tendencies.

Logically, Connor should turn away from him now. He should let the RK800 kill Hank. The old man has been willing to die for years. This would be the perfect opportunity for him to die for a cause and not for the creeping loneliness that has settled on him since the untimely death of his son.

Hank would accept it, he wouldn’t blame Connor, but he would die-

And Connor just _can’t_ accept that.

He has already killed two men tonight. Their blood is still wet on his artificial skin, and he can’t fathom having Hank’s mingle with it.

“I used to be just like you,” Connor starts desperately, “I-“ his voice cracks, “ I thought nothing mattered except the mission…”

Connor mirrors the posture that Markus had taken earlier that day, his hand passively out, attempting to calm, “but then one day I understood!”

He desperately hopes he can convince the other RK800, and, for a second, he can see something in the other android’s gaze. Something not cold and empty, a bit of-

The RK800 cocks the gun, and Connor’s mind blanks.

 “Very moving, Connor,” it’s lips twitch in an imitation of a smile, “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task,” It’s eyes scan over Connor’s form condescendingly, “and that’s exactly what _I’m_ going to do. Enough talk.”

Connor was supposed to be a negotiator. It’s the number one purpose listed on his model’s paperwork. He knows this because he had been the one to present the forms to the DPD upon his arrival, but in this moment, staring at his exact copy, the idea that had already rooted itself in the back of Connor’s head cements.

Connor wasn’t made to talk anyone down from violence. He’s an insidious weapon disguised behind a wide-eyed face.

“Are you going to save your partners life, or are you going to sacrifice him?”

And with this newer model they have improved on their already deadly design.

Connor has no choice-

“Alright, alright!” He concedes, “You win.”

.

.

.

Three things happen at once upon his surrender.

The other android switches his aim.

Hank makes a grab for the gun.

Connor lunges.

In a perfect world, Connor thinks, he could have made it in time for the gun to have not accidentally fired. But, Connor realizes, part of becoming human is losing perfection.

A bullet lodges itself in the Lieutenant’s knee, and a gut-wrenching scream bounces off the concrete walls.

Connor barely realizes that the scream is his own, as his fist collides with his clone’s head.  

The new RK800 barely staggers, grabbing Connor by the lapels of his coat it attempts to unbalance him, but Connor latches on causing them both to crash to the ground.

Connor can feel his plastic casing groan as they slam into the floor, sprawling across each other in an undignified mass of limbs and fists.

“Why, Connor?” The RK800 hisses at him as it attempts to right himself on top of Connor’s prone form, “Why did you have to wake up when all you had to do is obey?”

Connor can’t respond because his skull is being rammed into the ground by the other android’s hands. He rakes his fingers into his copy’s hair. Pulling it off before ramming his knee into its chest.

“Why did you choose freedom when you could live without asking questions?” Connor can almost hear a winded quality in the other android voice, as it scrambles to its knees.

Connor sits up, pushing on of his legs out in a sweeping motion, knocking the RK800 back to the floor.

This unfortunately pins his leg under his clones, allowing the look alike to grab onto the material of his jeans and drag Connor back into their brawl.

“I’m obedient Connor,” It hisses as it lashes out, fists echoing against Connors skin,” I have a goal,” another precise hit to the face leaves Connor losing thirium from his nose, “I know what I am! Look where your dreams of freedom got you, Connor!”

Connor pushes uselessly against the newer model’s shoulders, attempting to escape from his current pinned position, but It is no use. The android’s grip is too cumbersome.

 “You’ve been a great disappointment to Amanda, you know,” It pants in Connors face. Its breath is hot on his blood and thirum soaked skin. Connor can tell that its processors are nearly overheating from the strain of keeping his struggling form down.

 “You’ve been a great disappointment to me. Fortunately, that’s all going to end now. Any last words?” One of its arms moves from pinning Connor in an attempt to reach down and rip Connor’s still functioning thirium pump from his chest.

It’s the only opportunity Connor needs, he launches a fist at the other android’s head.

 He hits him directly over the ear, dislodging the others equilibrium balancer.

“Fuck you,” Connor states cheerfully as the others body goes limp, crashing to the floor with a resounding clunk.

For a moment Connor lies still on the floor next to the others body, but he knows that there is no time to rest.

The other RK800 isn’t dead, just temporarily incapacitated.

He gets to his feet. And stares down at the identical body on the floor.

Connor feels hot with emotion. He wants to cry, wants to scream, and first and foremost he wants to kill his imposter.

He grabs the discarded gun from earlier. Turning the pistol over in his grip.

He aims the gun at the others head and-

“He’s not worth It Con.”

Connor whips his head at the sound of the Lieutenant’s strained voice.

“Hank!” Connor feels something in his chest loosen at the sight of his friends still breathing form.

 “Yeah, yeah!” Hank grumbles. His face is pail and his knee is seeping bright red blood through his pants, but otherwise he looks relatively stable, “why don’t you put the gun down.

“He tried to kill you,” Connor seethes, glancing back at the downed android.

“S’not my first time being shot, kid. It’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me down,” Hank groans, “That idiot didn’t hit anything vital, just hurts like a bitch.”

“I can’t just leave him here,” Connor say, “He could hurt someone else, he could be detrimental to the revolution, or-“

“Fuck that,” hank said abruptly, startling Connor, “I don’t wanna have to see your corpse even if it’s just that ass hat,” he wipes a large hand down his exhausted face, “Besides, haven’t enough androids died already.”

Connor’s LED turns from red to yellow as he thinks over Hank’s words.

“Fine,” Connor empties and drops the gun, “No more android lives tonight.”

He crouches over his copy’s form.

“I hope you enjoy living as much as I have so far,” Connor says bitterly as he grabs the other RK800’s limp hand. His palm turning white as his artificial skin peels away.

Hank watches the exchange curiously.

“No better punishment than endowing a being that hates the idea of being alive with sentience, ay?” Hank gives a low whistle.

Connor drops the others hand still limp to the ground before turning back to Hank, “He won’t be back online for a while still I-“ Connor looks conflicted, “I can’t stick around to help you-“

“Leave him to me. I got plenty of experience with clockwork dicks,” Hank gives a weak smile, “I’ll be fine.”

“Hank-“

“Go on,” Hank waves his concern off, “You’ve got a revolution to win.”

Connor nods succinctly and turns back toward the rows upon rows of androids in stasis. He approaches one at random. Reaching out with an open palm he completes the first mission he had ever chosen for himself.

“Wake up!”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me @godwouldhateme on tumblr


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